


A Threesome For Two

by CrazyEd



Series: Deerfield [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Established Relationship, F/F, Jealousy, Loneliness, Mixed Martial Arts, Morning After, Multi, Nude Photos, Relationship Issues, Sparring, Threesome - F/F/M, Ultimate Fighting Championship, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29236089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyEd/pseuds/CrazyEd
Summary: When Wendy drinks, she becomes bold. Very bold. That boldness is what got Wendy her first girlfriend, but now it's gotten her and her girlfriend into a very messy situation, that reveals some anxiety she's had about their relationship in the past few months.A semi-sequel to "Liquid Courage".
Relationships: Tsuchimikado Masami & Samson Brezhenchekewitz, Tsuchimikado Masami/Wendy Wood
Series: Deerfield [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/871662
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

"Wendy. Wendy, wake up."

Wendy was awake, but despite the person shaking her shoulder, she did not want to wake up. She was snug and comfortable underneath the covers, and despite being a bit unusually solid, her mattress was nice and warm. She clung to it even harder and buried her face into it.

"C'mon, wake up. Wendy, this is important," said Masami, shaking her shoulder harder. Wendy groaned and swatted at her hand. Her legs wrapped around the warmth of the mattress. It felt so nice against the bare skin of her body.

"Get off him and wake up." Masami gave her a hard push, knocking Wendy off her mattress. She fell off the side, a mere foot or so, and landed on... a far softer (and colder) mattress? Wendy opened her eyes and looked around. Masami was glaring at her from above. To her right, holding her loosely around her waist, was what appeared to be a muscular arm, completely devoid of skin, exposing the red muscle underneath. Wendy yelled, knocking away the arm, and bolted across the bed away from the horrifying sight. She heard a deep grumbling noise from nearby.

The skinless arm moved, and sleepily scratched the stubbled chin of the massive man it was attached to. Fortunately, the rest of his body had skin, but from his right pectoral, over his shoulder, and down his arm all the way to the wrist, his arm was covered in a sleeve tattoo of striated muscle. It was a tattoo Wendy had seen before, on a man Wendy was quite familiar with. She looked at Masami and asked, "What is Sam doing here?"

"Don't yell so loudly. My head is killing me," said Masami, crossing her arms. Like Wendy, she was also completely naked. "That's what I wanted to to ask you. He was here when I woke up, and there you were too, using him like a hug pillow."

"... E-eh?" Wendy said, shoving her disheveled mane of hair out of her face. "M-Me?" Masami nodded solemnly. Wendy tried to remember the night before, but before she could get very far, both of them were distracted by the movement between them. They turned to watch Samson push himself up to a sitting position.

He was an absolutely massive man. Even sitting down he towered over Masami, but compared to Wendy, he was a veritable giant. In addition to his muscle sleeve tattoo, the other side of his body was covered in another large sleeve tattoo, this one depicting hydraulics and machinery, like his left arm was one giant heavy industrial piston hammer. Wendy had always thought it was really cool, and it was among the first things she had ever worked up the courage to talk about with him. He smoothed back the hair on the top of his head, which he wore in an undercut style. In an extremely groggy voice, he asked, "What's going on?"

His eyes widened when he saw Wendy, and to her, appeared to get even wider when he saw Masami (who moved her arms up to cover her breasts from his view). He pushed himself away from the both of them, until his wide back was against the headboard of Masami's bed. Suddenly very aware of her own nakedness, Wendy imitated Masami immediately, squeezing her own breasts to her chest with her forearms. She looked to Masami to see what she'd say next.

"Why is everyone asking me?" Masami replied curtly to him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Samson looked extremely confused. "... Wh-what do you mean? You invited me, remember?"

"No, I didn't?" Masami said, equally confused.

"... Well, I mean, she did." He nodded his head towards Wendy. Masami turned to Wendy and looked at her curiously. She then turned back to Samson.

"Here?" He nodded. "To my house?" He nodded again. "Into my _bed_?" He hesitated, but nodded a third time. Masami narrowed her eyes. "Her?" She sounded totally incredulous that Wendy, of all people, would be the cause of what seemed to be a drunken threesome.

"Ye-yes!" he replied quickly. "What's with the twenty questions?" Wendy thought that he sounded as if he was getting upset. "Don't you remember last night?" he asked Masami.

Wendy groaned. As it would happen, come to think of it, she did. She hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, refusing to believe what she knew to be true. _'Not again,'_ she thought wearily, _'Don't tell me I did it_ again _.'_ Masami leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at Wendy's face hidden behind a curtain of her hair.

"Wendy? What's wrong?" she asked, her tone concerned. She shot a fierce glance at Samson, and told him, "Stop staring." Samson immediately began looking around Masami's bedroom with extreme interest instead of at Wendy's topless body.

"I... I might've," she said, glancing up at Masami from above her fingertips. "Just a little. Could you, um, go get your phone?" Masami seemed confused by the request, but got out of bed, and went to her dresser.

Once dressed in a sports bra and boyshort panties, she tossed Samson his own clothes, tersely said, "Get dressed," and began to search for the phone.

"It might be in the other room," Wendy suggested. Masami waited until Samson got out of bed with his clothes in hand, before hurrying out of the room to check. Wendy was totally unable to peel her eyes away from him as he dressed . Like, Masami, he was a mixed martial artist, and he had the body to show for it. His arms were as thick as her thighs, and every single one of his muscles was well defined, from his bulging back muscles to his rock-hard abs. And between his legs... Wendy's face reddened.

With his jeans back on, but still shirtless, Samson looked at Wendy, and for the first time noticed her staring. "Ah," he said blankly. The two of them stared at each other, until she remembered she was naked, and again covered herself. "Sorry," he said quickly, and turned around. Wendy dove underneath the covers to hide herself. "So, uh..." he said, but trailed off into silence. Wendy stared at his back, hugging herself underneath the blanket even though she was completely covered, and tried to think of something to say.

The awkward silence lasted until Masami returned, with her phone in one hand and some clothes in the other. She unlocked her phone, and handed it and the clothes to Wendy. She quickly put on her underwear underneath the covers, and then turned her attention to the phone. Immediately opening the messaging app, looked through the message history with Samson. The further up she scrolled, the redder she got.

Alone, any single one of the pictures she had sent him of Masami and herself would've convinced most men to come over. All of them together... Wendy shook the thought out of her head as she got to the top of the last night's exchange between herself and Samson.

_"Masami's place. Now. I need your help with something."_

She had sent that to him, along with a side-on photo of herself laying on top of Masami in bed, their breasts squished together, with their faces cheek to cheek looking at the camera. She had a hard time believing she could've written such bold words, and could only imagine exactly what "something" was supposed to refer. But she got the gist of it. Wendy dropped the phone onto the bed, hid her face in her hands again, and groaned. She _had_ done it again. This was just like her first time with Masami all over again. "I'm never getting drunk again..." she mumbled into her palms.

Masami picked up the phone, took one look at the screen, turned a bright red, and smacked Samson hard in the abs with the back of her first. "Ow!" he exclaimed. "What was that for?" She showed him the photo with a scowl. He pointed at the screen and, with an air of triumph, said, "See, I told you she invited me over!" Realizing what he had said, or rather, how he said it, he quickly added, "Er, I didn't think she was being serious, at first. I thought the both of you were just teasing me for not having a date on Valentine's Day. But the pictures kept coming, and..."

"It's all my fault..." Wendy mumbled, not meeting either of their eyes. "Don't blame him. He didn't do anything wrong." She looked up at Masami and frowned. "If you want to be mad at anyone, Masami, you should be mad at me." Her eyes caught Masami's for just a moment, but that was more than enough. She averted her eyes from Wendy, put her hands on her hips and sighed, defeated.

"... Okay, I won't," she said quietly. She bent over the bed, took Wendy's chin in her hand, and gave her a long, deep kiss. "Just don't look at me like that. I'm not mad at you, I promise." Wendy nodded, full of relief, and managed a weak smile.

Samson scratched the back of his head again. "I still feel kinda bad about it. I had no clue you'd been drinking until after I came over. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."

"If you feel that bad about it," said Masami, "you won't mind me hitting you." She grinned at him, baring her teeth. "Hitting you always helps me work out my frustration."

He thought about the request, and sighed. Resigned, he said, "My gear bag's in my car."


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you two sure about this?" Wendy, now fully dressed in last night's clothes, asked them nervously. She sat on the weightlifting bench in Masami's small home gym, watching them get ready.

"It's just sparring," Samson replied, just finishing wrapping his hands with a long piece of cloth. He was now dressed in an orange skintight spandex rash guard with the kanji on Goku's gi over his heart, and a pair of equally tight black compression shorts. Wendy knew that the bulge in the front of them was just the protective cup he was wearing, but even so she had trouble not staring, after having just seen exactly _what_ it was protecting. "It _is_ just sparring, right Masami?"

Masami, still dressed in nothing more than the sports bra and boyshorts she put on earlier, sans for shin guards and heavily padded boxing gloves, bounced on her heels ready to go. "Just sparring, yeah," she said though the mouthpiece.

Samson didn't seem very convinced, but he put his mouthpiece in anyway. To Wendy, he seemed to be having doubts about letting an undefeated professional mixed martial artist who just had her fifth straight victory in the UFC hit him to work out her confused feelings over the two of them having a drunken threesome with her. She couldn't exactly blame him, either. "You're just sparring," she repeated, hopefully, as she watched Samson lace up his boxing gloves.

"Just sparring, yeah," Masami repeated, as the two touched gloves and began. Wendy knew next to nothing about the technical aspects of mixed martial arts, but even she could tell that Masami was going much harder than Samson. She wasn't sure if that was because he felt bad about last night, or because he could probably knock out someone a foot shorter than him and half his weight with a single clean punch, training gloves or not. Perhaps it was both. He wasn't even throwing his punches as fast as she was, but that might just be due to Masami's hand-speed. Even with her years of fencing experience, Wendy sometimes had trouble keeping up with Masami's hands. She wouldn't have been surprised if she had faster hands now, encumbered as they were by the boxing gloves, than some other fighters did when bare-knuckle.

But as the sparring went on, Samson wasn't saying anything about her intensity, even when Masami clocked him square on the chin with a solid right uppercut, so Wendy kept her own mouth shut as well. Instead, he initiated a clinch with Masami, eating her round kick against his thigh to close the distance, and hooked both his arms underneath hers. He then lifted her up like she was nothing more than a small child, turned, and tossed her into the air. Masami landed on her feet, back to the far wall, scowling at him. Samson just laughed, and hit his boxing gloves together tauntingly.

He stopped laughing when Masami charged forward and, after a short amount of hand-fighting, reaped his legs right out from under him. The two tumbled to the floor, Masami laying perpendicularly across his chest, raining blows down on the side of his head. He raised his well-padded fist to defend his ear, so she went to her knees, pressing one into his chest, to continue her attack from both sides. Samson's defence seemed impregnable, though, and her punches just impacted against the leather of his gloves. She passed her leg over his hips, straddling his waist, and fought to push his hands out of the way of his face.

Samson's left hand shot upwards, directly at her face. She knocked it away, but hitting her was never Samson's objective to begin with. He grabbed her by the collar, pulled her down tight against his body, and rolled over. Their positions reversed, Samson laid on top of Masami, her legs hooked tight around his thighs. She squirmed and struggled underneath his bulk, punching him on both sides to break an opening in his posture. Samson didn't seem particularly interested in stopping her, or even taking advantage of his newfound position on top, and just laid there, occasionally knocking her fist away or stopping a would-be escape attempt.

Wendy blushed, and twisted the ends of her hair through her fingers. She _knew_ they were just wrestling, but with the events of last night still in mind, it wasn't hard for her to imagine them doing something else entirely. Clad in skintight compression shorts that hugged every curve of his butt, all he would have to do is move his hips a little more, and the movement of her bare thighs wrapped around his would seem entirely different from where she was sitting. From where Wendy was sitting, it already sort of looked as if the large bulge of his cup was grinding against the front of Masami's boyshorts.

She was extremely flustered, yet somewhat disappointed, by the time Masami managed to get out from underneath him, and he let her get back to her feet. By then, both Masami and Samson were breathing heavily, and Masami had even begun to sweat a little. Wendy wondered whether that was due to the physical exertion of the sparring, or if what was heating her up was also inflaming Masami.

By the time they were done sparring, both of them were sitting on the ground, sweaty and exhausted. Wendy had lost all track of time. She had watched her girlfriend defeat over a dozen women in sanctioned fights before, and saw countless examples of her sparring with both men and women in striking and grappling, but this time was somehow different. There was something more to their sparring than just the refinement of technique. At least, Wendy thought so. It was something she had noticed before, in the back of her mind, but never really gave much thought to before that very moment.

She cried out in surprise. Both of them looked over to her with mild surprise, having apparently forgotten that she was even there watching the whole thing. "What's wrong?" Masami asked her.

"Nothing," Wendy said immediately. "I just thought of something."

"What's that?" asked Samson.

"Nothing, nothing," Wendy repeated hastily.

Masami looked at her suspiciously. "What is it?" she asked sternly, peering fiercely into Wendy's eyes.

"... Nothing..." Wendy repeated again, halfheartedly, certain that Masami would see through her lie.

"Well, anyway!" Samson said loudly, getting both of their attention, and asked Masami, "Now that I am thoroughly aching, am I off the hook? You hit just about everywhere I have to hit." He smiled awkwardly at Masami, yet somehow, also somewhat winningly.

Masami nodded. She punched him, playfully, in the shoulder and said, "Working out always clears my head. Thanks. I feel a lot better now." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll see you at the gym next time."

"Uh, yeah," he said, getting the hint and standing up to leave. "See you later." He tried to smooth back his hair ineffectively with his still wrapped hand. "I'm just gonna go get changed, and then I'll get out of here." He left the home gym, closing the door behind him.

Wendy and Masami both sat in the gym, not saying a word to each other, until they heard Samson call out another good-bye and the back door out of the house open and close.


	3. Chapter 3

Masami turned to her and said matter-of-factly, "So. What was it you realized? Was it something you didn't want Sam to hear?"

"Not really," Wendy mumbled. Frankly, it wasn't something she wanted either of them to hear. "I just remembered... um... why I called him over. I've spent the last two months wondering how I could ever repay you for your Christmas gift, and-"

"Your computer thing? I told you, you didn't have to," Masami replied quickly. "I bought it with my fight bonus money." Masami's debut in the UFC had been explosive, to say the least, earning her a fifty-thousand dollar Performance of the Night bonus. But even so, getting her a GTX 3090 graphics card still seemed kind of excessive.

"I know, but still," she mumbled. "I wanted to do _something_ to show my appreciation. And then all of a sudden, last night, I got the 'bright idea' of what I could do."

"So you called my... oh my god, I had sex with my _manager_." She put her hand to her forehead at the sudden realization. "Why him, of all people?"

Wendy swallowed, twisting her hair around and around itself with both hands now. _That_ was actually the thing she didn't want to tell either of them. She struggled to put her feelings into words. "I guess, well, um... I was a bit jealous, or, envious, maybe?"

"Envious of Sam?" asked Masami. "For what?" She seemed completely oblivious as to why anyone would be envious of Samson.

"Ever since you made it into the UFC last summer, you've been spending more and more time with him," Wendy started. "I haven't even been to a single one of your fights since then," she grumbled. Due to the pandemic, all five of Masami's UFC fights had taken place at the UFC center in Las Vegas, and Masami didn't want her flying cross-country "unnecessarily".

Masami sat down on the weightlifting bench next to her and looked her in the eye. "I noticed that too. That's why I gave you such an expensive gift. I felt bad about it too, but I'm not doing it on purpose."

"I know that," Wendy said with a sigh. "It seemed like, by the time you were out of quarantine, you were already preparing to fly back for your next fight. And you two have such good physical chemistry together..."

"What?" Masami asked, taken aback. "Physical chemistry? Did you really think I was cheating on you? With _Sam_?" That surprised her even more.

"No, no!" Wendy said quickly, waving her hands at Masami. "I know you'd never do that. I just thought... if you weren't dating me, would you be dating him? He's huge and muscular, and so strong, and you two have more in common than you do with me."

Masami crossed her arms defensively. "What in the world are you talking about? You have _way_ more in common with him than I do. You both love anime and video games and stuff. The only thing we do together is train. He flies out to Vegas with me as a coach and manager. We're not hitting the casinos or anything." From her tone, Wendy knew that she'd very much like to go to the Las Vegas casinos, with or without Sam, but she wouldn't be twenty-one for another month.

"Eeh? So you've never even thought about it, not once, even before we started dating?" Wendy asked. Masami shook her head. Wendy laughed. "Really?"

"Nope," said Masami, almost proudly. "I've known Sam almost as long as I've known you. I had _years_ to consider dating him. But I just never have. There's just always been something about him that's made me want to hit him. It's very cathartic. You should've hit him too. We both had sex with him, after all."

"I'm good," Wendy said, giggling. She pounced on Masami, hugging her tightly. Deep down, she always knew she was being silly, and the whole thing was inside her head, but actually hearing it directly from Masami put her greatly at ease.

Masami pushed her away. "He-hey! Let go. I'm all sweaty."

Wendy slipped a hand underneath Masami's sports bra and gave her a squeeze. "So let's go take a bath," she said, laughing, and planted a kiss on Masami's sweaty cheek. She didn't _always_ need alcohol to be bold.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Wendy, you're panicking for nothing. You should really be more confident with yourself. Or at the very least, stop fantasizing about your hot girlfriend kissing her hot friends so much.


End file.
